There will be pictures forthcoming very soon, but we had a very nice time hiking, listening to the Avett Brothers, getting lost on the winding roads, and eating a cold lunch packed last-minute by yours truly. It was very nice to get out of the house and enjoy the wildlife, though there was never a place on the trail where we were completely out of sight of the road.
The mountains were breathtaking, and the day was slightly cloudy with intermittent sun, so it was hot and cold in turns. Hopping from rock to rock on the trail took most of my attention, but there were some legitimately beautiful moments, and the drive up was full of magical mountainy things like cozy cottages, babbling brooks, and the craggy cliffs found only in Colorado.
After lunch, we hiked back, and somehow made it out of Rocky Mountain and into Estes on less than a gallon of gas. Possibly because the ride back was downhill. At a gas station, I removed one of the under-layers of my clothing, and felt much better about life and the human condition as a result. We purchased pink and blue Powerades and started on the drive to Denver for my course books, which finally arrived.
We stayed at Dad's for an hour or two, during which I realized exactly how much the disadvantage of lack of Russian literacy prohibits David from speaking with my family. My dad and I spoke almost exclusively in Russian, and every time I remembered David sitting there, I had to backtrack and translate everything that had been said. In the car later, he said that it wasn't too bad, but I know he's understating the truth of the matter.
Now that I have the majority of my books, I'm more intimidated by my classes than ever. In fact, that's what this post was initially about.
I'm terrified that all of my professors will soon discover what I've suspected for years: that I'm not actually even remotely as intelligent as the impression I give others, and that the majority of my wit is simply smoke and mirrors. I'm evasive and stupid and very, very impulsive, and I have terrible retention in spite of the arguments of people like David, who insist that I remember things for a much longer period of time than the Average Bear.
Traditional and Modern Grammars is simply a nightmare in another language. Fantasy and SF is too much reading, and no time to process it. 195 is perhaps the only class I stand a chance of passing, and even then, it's only because the class is supposed to be a Freshman level. I ordered the wrong copy of Letters to a Young Poet, and now I'm screwed royally for my Thinking about Art class. At least we read Maugham. That was nice. Shakespeare is hellishly difficult, and I'm not a Shakespeare scholar.
I don't know if I can do any of these things, and I'm so frightened and intimidated that all I want to do is curl up into a ball and watch the new Doctor Who episode. I have a paper due tonight and I'm intimidated. And I need to study for Grammars, but I don't understand 75% of what the professor says, and he goes at a lightning-pace. Catch up or mess up, and neither would particularly bother him.
Is it too late to enroll in Accounting school?
The worst part about all of this is, of course, that the material is legitimately interesting. I'm honestly engaged and enjoy every moment of the discourse. Why are things so damned difficult?
And now, the pictures! Sorry they took forever.
